All's Well That Ends Well

[Enter Second French Lord, with five or six other]
[p]Soldiers in ambush]

Second Lord. He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner.
When you sally upon him, speak what terrible
1905language you will: though you understand it not
yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to
understand him, unless some one among us whom we
must produce for an interpreter.

Second Lord. He must think us some band of strangers i' the
1915adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of
all neighbouring languages; therefore we must every
one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we
speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to
know straight our purpose: choughs' language,
1920gabble enough, and good enough. As for you,
interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch,
ho! here he comes, to beguile two hours in a sleep,
and then to return and swear the lies he forges.

[Enter PAROLLES]

Parolles. Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be
time enough to go home. What shall I say I have
done? It must be a very plausive invention that
carries it: they begin to smoke me; and disgraces
have of late knocked too often at my door. I find
1930my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the
fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, not
daring the reports of my tongue.

Second Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue
was guilty of.
1935

Parolles. What the devil should move me to undertake the
recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the
impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I
must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in
exploit: yet slight ones will not carry it; they
1940will say, 'Came you off with so little?' and great
ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what's the
instance? Tongue, I must put you into a
butter-woman's mouth and buy myself another of
Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.
1945

Second Lord. Is it possible he should know what he is, and be
that he is?

Parolles. I would the cutting of my garments would serve the
turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword.

Parolles. I know you are the Muskos' regiment:
1970And I shall lose my life for want of language;
If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch,
Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I'll
Discover that which shall undo the Florentine.